Juliette and Jonathan are so messy
by hoovahoopah
Summary: "Jules, I missed you."


Juliette has heard all the rumors, so when he storms into her office, she is all too willing to fight. He's ranting about some horrific faux pas she's made, some terrible misinterpretation of god knows what. She meets his fire with her usual ice, and it sets him off, predictably. He's nearly shouting then, telling her his company has no time, nor does it have space, for her attitude, her lack of decorum.

She reminds him, "Jonathan, _darling_, I believe this company is not solely your own. I do believe there were certain promises made, certain contracts signed, a board you answer to. And I don't see you doing half of the work I do, nor do you even pretend to."

Her voice is just dripping with disdain and he, not for the first time, wonders what else this is actually about. His own frustration at her unwillingness to step down, to submit to him, only hinders him as he tries to think of a response. She's always been quicker, smarter, more acidic. She's always ready to slash his ideas to ribbons with that razor of a tongue.

"I understand once you were given your important title, your entire sense of self changed, but Jonathan, you're just as replaceable as anyone." Juliette crosses her arms over her chest, daring him to try again.

He attempts to argue, weakly at best. "How dare you-"

"How dare I?" she gives him an incredulous look. "How dare I?" she repeats, her laughter hollow and he cringes at the sound.

He's quite possibly the pettiest person Juliette has ever known. Petty and so god damn insecure.

"Don't," she holds up a hand, not interested in whatever barrage of false accusations Jonathan has lined up for her. "I have work to do."

"As if I don't?" he steps closer and she can see the anger in his eyes. She's always been able to push him past the point of anger, it's one of her less appealing skills, one that just grates on his nerves.

"No," she says simply, wondering for the briefest of moments if that answer would merit any sort of resolution. "You're on your way to that little Italian place. You'll eat, have a drink, maybe a little dessert... No, my mistake, you'll take dessert to Kathleen's. You're done working for the day."

His eyes widen for a moment and he tries to brush her off, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," she rolls her eyes. She plays his game far too often, she realizes, always fighting back with nothing. "Everyone's heard by now. Secrets are hard to keep."

"Damn it, Juliette. It's none of your business."

"Of course it isn't. According to you, I have no business anywhere right now."

"That's not what I meant," his voice softens and she knows now would be a good time to let it go. But she can't.

"Or is it? It's clear you think you can do everything yourself. Why don't you teach all the students, hm? Why don't you deal with this pile of paperwork? No, you're too busy courting the prettiest prima who bats her eyelashes at you."

"Don't," Jonathan steps forward, trying to stop her.

"It's a tired act, Jonathan. You did it with me, you did it with her, and all the other dancers in between."

"You were more than that, Jules, you know that."

His use of her old nickname cuts straight to her heart and she can feel herself weakening with each passing second. But two can play that game. "So why am I on this side of things, _sweetheart_?"

"Because you ended it."

"You weren't going to fall in love with me. You didn't love me any more than you love Kathleen."

"Juliette, you're being ridiculous."

"Just stop lying to me. And do yourself a favor, and stop lying to yourself about whatever it is you felt for me. Because it sure as hell wasn't love."

It takes him less than a second and he's centimeters away from her, his arm around her waist. She's still glaring up at him but he can feel the way her breath catches once he's close.

"Jonathan, stop it."

He doesn't say anything, just presses his lips to hers, pulls her close. He knows he's playing a dangerous game, but he also knows she'll give in. She'll give in like she always does. And give in she does, quicker than he thought. She struggles for a moment, her hands solid against his chest, but she opens her lips to his tongue and her arms wrap themselves around his neck. He pushes her up against the desk, his hips press tightly against hers and she can't stifle the moan that slips from her parted lips.

"Jonathan," she murmurs against his lips, still holding onto whatever is left of her dignity.

"Jules," he gives a soft groan, his hands moving up and down her sides, itching for the warmth of her skin.

She finally relents, losing herself completely and she knows he can feel her surrender. His hands are at the shoulders of her leotard and he's tugging the cotton from her shoulders. His fingertips brush against the soft skin of her shoulders, her upper arms and he pushes the fabric further. She shivers in the cool air of her office and she moans when his hands cup her breasts.

"Jules, I missed you," he mumbles, his hips moving against hers.

That does it. She knows exactly what this is, and then she's pushing him away and pulling up the sleeves of her leotard. His words are all too sobering and she can feel her heart pounding in her chest. He tries again, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. She nearly slaps him, but pushes him away all the same. Jonathan stumbles back, his eyes widening once realization hits. She can't keep her lip from curling, revulsion evident on her face as she steps back. He's always been a damn fool, that she knows, but she never quite understood before.

"Shit," is his mumbled response, his eyes averted. "Juliette," he steps forward again, grasping her elbow in his warm hand.

"No," she says firmly. "No," she doesn't move, she can't. She's paralyzed, completely unable to move, let alone think, but she knows she'll rip him limb from limb if he touches her again.

She's still so naive sometimes, still so willing to believe everything is fine and innocent. It's why she always listens to him, why she's still his friend. The only thing that's changed is the intimacy. They've always been entirely separate, even when they were together. It's just that he was almost honest with her then. And now, he's not. They don't touch often, she's much colder than she used to be, and they merely nod their greetings. But sometimes they slip, sometimes she feels the warmth and weight of his hand at her lower back, and sometimes he kisses her on the forehead. Sometimes he thinks she's still his.


End file.
